Starfox: Sanguine Circle
by thadudeman
Summary: Vermillion Alakein, the most dangerous criminal in the galaxy, escapes from a highly guarded prison on the planet of Corneria. His old organization, known as Sanguine Circle, plots to overthrow the planet by force. Will Team Starfox be able to stop him?
1. Introduction

The moon shone over the face of the waters of Corneria, reflecting off of the surface and distorting its round shape as it reflected back into the sky. Nighttime was already in progress, the bright sunlight giving way to the stars. A cool breeze wafted over the air, creating a false sense of peace and tranquility.

False indeed.

In the outlying regions of Corneria, out of sight from Corneria city, the infamous prison of Destenoa rose out of the waters. It's crimson color was made darker by the night, the gentle waves lapping up at the large pillars that rose clear out of the water, going down as deep the ocean was and below. Hundreds of these pillars stood, holding up the prison far above the surface of the ocean, keeping it protected from the forces of nature. It's walls were heavily armored and nearly impossible to penetrate. Seven levels rose above the waters, each of them containing the prisoners.

It was here that the most dangerous prisoners were kept. Far away from the public, closed off to the outside world, it held all of the world's worst criminals. Nowhere would you find a mere bank robber here. Nor would you find a simple murderer. Oh no, here, the most dangerous, evil, vile, and most outrageous criminal minds were found here.

The island prison was protected by over a thousand guards, each of them highly trained and fully armed with automatic weapons and protective armor. In fact, the number of guards was nearly triple the number of prisoners, Security cameras monitored each corner, their unblinking eyes ever watchful.

Escape in Destenoa was thought to be impossible. This was why the worst of the worst were kept here.

Though none were worse than Vermillion Alakein.

His crimes were unsurpassed, far outranking others in the art of death. His fur was a stain of rich crimson, stained with the blood of his enemies until none of his albino color was visible. Unwillingly, he had been put in this wretched place for many years. And for those years, thoughts of escape stewed in his mind, plans for vengeance...

And tonight, he had plans for escape. An escape thought impossible by any standards.

Any standards, that is, save his own.


	2. The Escape of Vermillion

**Authors Note: This chapter is fairly long, and I guarantee you, it's action packed and awesome. If you disagree, well then, guess I'll have to try harder!**

The hallways of Destenoa were silent, save the occasional tapping of shoes on the metal floor, courtesy of the numerous guards which patrolled the area. This was the seventh floor of the prison, a dizzying drop down to the ocean below. Added on to this, there were no windows, and these hallways were the most well guarded of all in Destenoa.

This did not stop the plans of Vermillion Alakein. Tonight he was going to escape.

His cell gave him dim light, no fresh air, and only a single, small hole for meals, which was activated electronically from the outside via a key.

This key was merely a wedge in the front of the door to stick an extremely small pin, which activated a motion sensing mechanism to open the hole.

This was how he planned to escape.

Earlier, about two days before, this meal hole had been opened for feeding time, and a small meal of packaged bread and water on a simple plate was pushed in. Vermillion, with an angry shout, had shoved the plate back out. The guard, once again attempted to put it back through the hole, but Vermillion took a hold of it and hit it up against the top of the hole, shattering the plate and spilling its contents all over the floor. Because of this, Vermillion had been sentenced to three days without rations of food or water.

Of course, this had all been intentional.

As the plate broke, Vermillion quickly seized a small shard, tucking it into his small pants pocket as he did. After being sentenced, his cell had become virtually ignored, passed over at meal times. During this period of time, he used the small shard to pick away at the bottom of the small meal hole, the tiny crack beginning to get wider as he progressed. Day stretched into night and into day again, Vermillion working vigorously nonstop, without taking a break at any time. By the eve of the second day, he had chipped away a large enough crack, until the laser of the motion sensing device was barely visible. Tonight was the eve of the third day, his only chance at esacpe.

This was it. The time had now come.

Vermillion sat down, and lifted his hand to his mouth. He sighted his pinky finger, and grabbed the claw with his teeth. As cleanly as possible, he ripped it off, stifling a cry of stinging pain in the process, his blood slowly dripping from his finger. He merely wiped it onto his fur, merely staining it a deeper crimson. He approached the meal hole, and slowly began to wedge the claw between the tiny crack, little by little forcing it into the small gap. He inched it closer to the laser, getting closer and closer…

Suddenly, he heard a noise. A guard was coming his way.

Vermillion, despite the position of his hand, kept perfectly still, making no sound at all. Eventually, he heard the guards walk away from the doorway. Slowly, he once again began to inch his way forward, the claw almost touching the laser…

The laser cut over it, the tiny line bent over the claw. He heard a faint click, and the food hole slid open.

He grinned at his success as he felt a small whoosh of air from the opening door, light flooding into the cell. Now for the second part of his plan.

The button which opened the door was placed onto the wall, directly beside the door. It was impossible to reach, but Vermillion already knew this. He already had yet another plan…

He inched his hand out of the hole, in his hands, clutching the plate shard. He rose his wrist, flicking it back into a throwing position. The small, glowing green button was hardly visible through the tiny space in between his hand and the edge of the hole. Vermillion inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the throw that would determine his escape…

He aimed carefully, then flicked his wrist forward, letting go of the plate shard in a throw.

It hit squarely on the button.

Vermillion quickly withdrew his arm as the door slid open, grinning broadly. He had finally escaped his prison cell.

Now for the escape…

He picked up the plate shard gingerly, glad to see that it was not broken. He still needed it.

Quickly and quietly, he stepped around the corner, hiding behind the wall. His cell door slid back shut, and the food hole had already closed, leaving no evidence of his escape.

For many minutes, he waited in silence, gripping the plate shard in his hand for dear life. It was a crucial part of his plan.

Finally, he heard footsteps in the distance, around the corner he was hiding at. He gripped the shard even tighter, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took into account that there was only one guard approaching.

He heard the steady footsteps nearly at the end of the corner. He waited, until the head of a fully armed dog soldier guard poked out from the corner.

Vermillion did not hesitate. He hastily swiped aside the rifle, and went around the back of the guard, putting a hand over his mouth. The guards' cry was stifled, and Vermillion plunged the shard into his spine. The soldier ceased any struggling, and went limp. Vermillion let go, gently lowering his body to the floor. He smiled at what he saw.

This guard had a full uniform on, and it included a tinted mask that draped over the eyes. The fully automatic rifle lay on the guards' side, fully loaded. But the thing that caught his attention most, was the small pistol as a sidearm on his leg holster.

Vermillion hated rifles. He considered them unwieldy and unnecessarily powerful. He preferred pistols, and was an utter expert with them in every respect. Quickly, he stripped the soldier of his uniform, donning the armor, helmet, leg holster, and arm coverings. He strapped on the leggings, covering up the color of his dark crimson fur from view. He pulled the body away, and opened up his cell door once more. Dragging his body away, he chucked it into his old cell and closed the door. He picked up the rifle, hating how cumbersome it was to his movement, and stuck the pistol into his new leg holster. Quietly, he began to make his way down the hallway, just like a normal guard would. No blood had dripped onto the floor, only onto his already red fur.

Once again, he heard more guards approach, and this time, there were two of them. If they spoke to him, he decided, they would die. He could not speak back to them, as it would betray his real identity. Then he realized something. He was traveling in the opposite direction of the normal patrol route. They would most likely speak to him.

He saw them round the corner up ahead. Silently, he loosened the pistol from the holster. He could take no chances.

Sure enough, as they neared, the guard called to him. "Oi! What's up, Arese? Where are you going?"

Vermillion quickly tensed his muscles, then swiftly grabbed the pistol, and in less than a second, he had it drawn, pointing it straight at the guard's head.

They both had no time to react. He sweeped his arm from left to right, clicking the trigger twice. Only twice.

Both guards crumbled to the floor. As quickly as possible, he sighted a closet, and dragged their bodies to it, lightly tossing them inside after pressing the button to open it. He closed it, and slowly began to walk again, leaving behind a scene of death.

He came to a long, straight hallway, which forked off from right to left. Toting his rifle casually, he made sure that no part of his red fur was visible, and then walked out into the open of the hallway.

Had it not been for his guard uniform, Vermillion would have certainly died that night. Three security cameras viewed the hallway, and in the distance, he could see another pair of guards making their way down the corridor, in his direction. As normally as possible, he proceeded down the hallway, hoping that nothing unusual was visible. The two guards nodded in recognition to his presence, and he nodded back, glad that he didn't have to raise a commotion in the middle of a secure location. They passed by him without losing their lives.

A stairwell came into view. Slowly and casually, he met the entrance, and began to descend the stairs, still proceeding as normally as possible. He relaxed his shoulders, slouched slightly, and gripped his rifle less tightly in an effort not to be noticed. He made it all the way to the third story, when abruptly, the staircase ended. Confused, he tried not to show it in his facial expression or body language, and merely stared straight ahead like a man on a mission. Another, less long corridor greeted him, and this time, no security cameras or guards were immediately present. Still, nonetheless, he continued in his gait, making it to the end of the hallway, until he came upon another fork, branching left and right once more. He chose the right again, taking another wild guess. He dearly hoped it was the right direction.

Unfortunately, it led to a dead end. Vermillion nearly cursed aloud as his misfortune. He switched directions, turning onto his feet with the grace of a cat, and began walking in the opposite direction, trying as hard as he could to make it to the center of the hallway without being seen coming from a dead end, from nowhere. Even the slightest hint of suspicion that he wasn't a guard could cause his mission to fail.

Vermillion's blood turned cold. He could hear footsteps making their way to his location, from where he had just entered from, and directly in front of him. He didn't make it to the fork of the hallway in time, and the first two came around the bend of the wall.

The escapee, however, had tried to hurry to get to the center of the hallway, and bumped into the first guard in front of him. The both hit each others heads hard, and tumbled over most ungracefully. Vermillion cursed aloud as he felt his helmet become undone, and slipped off of his head.

The guard whom he had knocked down, slightly dazed, gave a gruff yell.

"Hey, watch where your go… Hey!"

The guard had taken one good look at Vermillion's crimson fur, and immediately realized that this guard was an imposter. Unfortunately, this realization was the last one he, or his partner, ever made.

Vermilion had already taken the pistol out of his holster, and by the time the guard had finished his sentence, fired. The guard rolled over onto the ground. The other one nearly yelled out an alert, but Vermillion's hand and trigger finger were faster. In a matter of a second, both guards were gone.

As quickly as possible, he dragged the bodies into the dead end slightly, keeping one of his hands aiming the gun at the stairwell in front of him, waiting for the head of the guard to pop up. It did. He pulled the trigger, ending yet another life.

With this Vermillion realized something. There was no way he could stay here any longer. He had to get out. He must escape!

Donning his helmet, he looked up to the ceiling, and by his own luck, did not spot any security camera. He entered the stairs, leaving the dead dog soldier behind him on the floor. He was making his way to the first floor. He was desperate to reach the only place from which he could possibly make his escape.

To the docks of the prison.

Not by the boats. Not by the skiffs or jet skis used by the guards that patrolled the outer prison. Oh no, there was only one way through.

And that way was through the garbage chute and onto the garbage boat, which would arrive in approximately one half hour.

He had now reached the first floor, heart pounding, thoughts racing. It was only a matter of time before one of the bodies was discovered. In fact, they could discover them at any moment…

He shook the thought from his mind, keeping calm and relaxed. He was almost to the docks already. He stifled a sigh of relief as he realized that he could make it.

He arrived at the docks.

There were over a dozen guards in this one vicinity. As he walked forward, he took note that there was a dog soldier operating a turret at the exact opposite end of the dock. He was here fifteen minutes early.

He continued to walk forward, apparently relaxed, but in reality, tense as a coiled spring, ready to pull his pistol and use his machine gun at any given time. Only this time, it would be different. The turret would most certainly complicate things for him if things should go awry.

He eyed one of the guards, who nodded to him in a gesture of greetings. Vermillion nodded back, hoping for his own life that he wouldn't speak to him.

The guard turned to one of his friends, and began to start a conversation, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something strange about the guard.

Slowly, he turned his head. On the very crease where the helmet met his armor, he could see a hint of dark red. He stared at it suspiciously for a few moments, and then saw that the red was his fur.

Vermillion had rushed putting his helmet when he had bumped into one of the guards, anxious to escape without the bodies of the two guards he had killed being seen. He had hurried himself, exposing the thin line of scarlet red underneath the helmet. It took a few moments to register in the guards head, then suddenly, he called out in a panicked tone of voice.

"That's not a real guard! Imposter!"

At the moment Vermillion heard this, he broke into a run, pulling his pistol and rifle as he did. The turret heard the call of alert, and immediately swiveled the gatling gun turret in the imposter's direction. All of the guards on the dock pointed their rifles at Vermillion as he ran, who in turn, blindly pointed both of his weapons behind him.

He had been discovered.

**Authors Note: HEE HEE I ended it in a cliffie!**

**Do you like my story? If you do, please review! If you don't, please review and tell me what's wrong with it!**


	3. Garbage Chute to Freedom

**Authors note: This chapter is a little longer than my last one. Also chocked full of all that yummy stuff people look for, like action, action, and let me see, um, oh yeah, ACTION. Enjoy! **

**Also, something optional you can do is listen to the Vantage Point movie ending theme song with this chapter. I think it fits pretty well, at least in the beginning! Just something to enhance your experience! :D**

Gunfire broke out on the docks.

Vermillion blindly fired his weapons behind him, sprinting full force to a small stack of shipment crates as he did. The guards attempted to dodge the rogue laser beams as they sprayed toward them. Luckily for Vermillion, two guards fell, one severely injured in the head, and the other killed. The rest of his shots, however, merely reflected off of the armor that the guards were wearing. The guards returned fire, aiming straight at Vermillion's unprotected back.

Whether it was by some stroke of luck, or a matter of fate, Vermillion made it behind the crates, with no time to spare as a hefty group of bullets shot straight behind his back, nearly tearing him in half. He did a ground dive, taking cover behind the stack of shipping crates. He pressed his back against the crates, taking cover while pointing the two guns on both sides of him.

While momentarily thinking he was safe, he glanced upward for barely a half second, and to his horror, saw the turrets' barrel aimed straight for him, beginning to spin, and preparing to unleash a torrent of bullets.

Only Vermillion's unbelievably fast reflexes saved his life. He threw himself into a flying cat roll, just as the _rat a tat tat_ of gunfire broke out. The bullets creased right over his body, one of them glancing off of his armor. As he rolled, he brought his guns facing forward, straight in front of his face. Completing his roll, he dared not stand up, but instead, finished in a kneeling position. His guns were already aimed in the turrets direction.

As the turret was still firing, the river of laser beams zoomed right over the top of his head. He in turn, fired back, more of a wild shot than a precisely aimed one. Pulling both triggers, he aimed down the sights of his pistol, and sprayed the general direction with his rifle.

Miraculously, the turret operator flinched, bringing the turret up at a slightly higher angle, aiming further away from Vermillion. Without a second's hesitation, the crimson furred escapee got his legs up from kneeling position, and broke out into a full sprint once more, right toward another, larger row of crates in front of him.

The guards realized their predicament, and had already given chase. Vermillion was already at the next stack of crates, taking cover behind them. He looked up once more, and realized that the turret could not swivel this far downward to aim at him. He smiled. The most deadly enemy he faced was unable to help.

Coolly, he pointed both the rifle and the pistol in both directions once more, guarding both sides where the guards could come from. At the same time, he eyed the garbage chute, which was away from him and to his left, and slightly up a set of open metal stairs. He grimaced. This was problematic for him, because he would have to move into the turrets path, through a wide open area, and up the stairs in order to escape.

And he would have to achieve it in perfect timing, or else, fall into the ocean below.

The guards were beginning to close in on Vermillion, approaching both sides of the stack of crates carefully and quickly. Vermillion breathed in deeply, careful not to give his location to the guards.

One of the guards was ahead of the rest, and dared to poke his head around the right side of the stack.

Vermillion was already aiming in that direction with his pistol, looking down the sights after hearing footsteps on that side of the stack. When the guard poked his head out, Vermillion immediately responded, pulling the trigger a single time. The guard gave a cry of surprise, and fell over in the direction he was leaning.

At this, the guards slowed, knowing that their quarry was on the other side of that stack of crates. Four took a position on the right side where the guard had died, and the other six moved to the left.

Vermillion knew he was in deep trouble. They had him at both angles, outnumbered him, and had his escape route cut off. He bit his lip nervously. All of his wit, strength, reflexes, and intuition would have to be concentrated into this one goal.

This time, on the left side, a guard began to poke his rifle out of the corner of the crates, aiming down the sights, seeking his target. Vermillion was waiting, automatic rifle already aimed at his head. He pulled the trigger and held it there. The guard somehow managed to react, pulling his head back as blue beams cut through the air where he had just been. The guard gave a gasp of fright, eyes growing wide at the skill this quarry possessed.

Vermillion felt his feet give a nervous twitch. Five minutes until the boat came…

He could see the boat through the light mist of the ocean, making its way to the prison very quickly. It was almost dawn. He had to hold out until it reached here…

Once again, he felt, rather than saw the guard poke his head out again. He fired once more, trying to keep him back behind the crates, preventing him from firing. One guard on the right tried to take advantage of the situation, by hastily pointing the barrel of his rifle at Vermillion's direction. The guard managed to click off three shots before having to pop back.

Vermillion's luck ceased to fail him, as the bullets created a streak of blue, right in front of his head. He gave a reflex shot with the pistol, but it missed, zooming out off of the docks to fizzle out into nothing. He cursed, and then instinctively looked back to the left, to see the same guard, once again, out from behind the crates, aiming his machine gun at Vermillion. Before he could pull the trigger, Vermillion had his finger pressed down onto his own trigger. This time, the guard keeled over, struck multiple times in the head and chest. He collapsed to the ground, dead.

Vermillion gave a series of quick breaths, trying to calm himself down. Once again, the guard on the right peeped out, rifle aimed and ready to shoot. Vermillion shot his pistol twice, but before the bullets could do any damage, the guard popped back.

Vermillion swiftly eyed the garbage boat once more. He did not have to hold out much longer. It was almost here…

He tensed up, trying to figure out how he was going to move to the chute without being shot down…

He decided in his mind, that there was no plan available. He would just have to run for it. It was nearly suicidal, but it was his only chance.

Slowly but surely, he inched his way to the left, still guarding both sides of the stack of crates with his pistol and machine gun.

Once more, another guard popped out directly to his left side. Vermilion reacted quickly, spraying him with bullets before the guard could blink. This time, the guard fell inward, toward the line of guards who were waiting to pop out.

Vermillion broke out into a run, his legs pounding against the metal surface of the dock. The time had come, and he could not hesitate. At the same time, he aimed his pistol to his left and his automatic rifle to his right in a cross armed motion.

He broke away from the edge of the crates, at the same time, pulling the trigger of his pistol.

Two guards fell immediately, killed by two beams to the head. Vermillion saw through his peripheral vision the remaining two guards take shelter behind the crates on the opposite side. He nearly smiled. This was exactly what he wanted them to do, create more time for him to run without being shot at.

The turret operator saw on his right side, the fake guard running toward the stairs to the garbage chute. The second he saw him, he swiveled his Gatling gun turret in direction, at the same time, pressing down the lever to shoot it. The cylindrical tube began to spin rapidly, revving up to shoot…

Vermillion had already made it to the stairs, still running headlong. He was almost to his destination… only two more steps…

The turret began firing, and the remaining guards broke cover, aiming their guns at Vermillion, about to fire.

Time seemed to stand still. Vermillion grabbed the top of the rim of the tube, swinging into it, just as the mighty torrent of blue laser beams zipped toward him.

He freefell, swinging right into the mouth of the foul smelling chute. At the millisecond he disappeared into the hole, the flood of bullets entered the tube. Literally thousands of them entered, blasting a hole into the side of it. They missed him by nearly no distance at all.

Vermillion fell, not knowing whether or not he would strike the boat…

He faded from the realm of darkness into the early morning light…

He plummeted over fifty meters, straight onto the grime and filth of the garbage boat.

His legs sank into the waste and filth, cushioning his fall. At the second he impacted, he was greeted by a foul stench, so putrid he almost swooned. Ignoring it as best he could, he grinned, spitting out a bit of slime. He had done it! He had escaped!

Then he realized something. He wasn't safe yet. They could still shoot him from the docks.

Meanwhile, the dog soldiers stared at the scene before them in disbelief. He had eluded them. Somehow, he had escaped the inescapable…

The escaped ex-prisoner began to bury himself in the muck, trying to hide himself from view of his predators above.

Sure enough, one of them ventured to inch his head out from the side of the dock, taking a look at where Vermillion had come out of the chute. Buried in the muck from head to toe, Vermillion was impossible to be seen. looking like part of the mess. As if reinforcing it, a large sum of waste and garbage fell down the chute, landing onto the boat. However, it landed on top of Vermillion, still buried inside it. He suppressed a cough and a sputter, the foul stink enveloping him, and invading his nostrils. He felt on the verge of vomiting, but somehow held it back. He needed to escape here, no matter the cost. He must seek his revenge on the people of Corneria…

His thoughts abandoned him as he could faintly hear two guards having a conversation. One of them was presented most obviously to be of a superior rank t the other.

"So, tell me, you say that he escaped?"

"Um… Yes, sir. He did. We tried as hard as we could…"

"Shut up! Enough of your excuses! Where is he now, hm? Did he disappear into thin air? I don't see this escaped prisoner! How do you even know that he was an escaped prisoner?"

Vermillion heard a small period of silence, and then, the other soldier spoke.

"Because, sir, we found a dead guard in place of the prisoner in his own cell."

The other, which had been flustered before, was now furious. "A dead guard, you say? And how did that happen?"

"Um… uh… we don't know… some sort of incision on the back of the spine…

"Really? And were there any other fatalities?" the superior officer asked him.

The other guard was hesitant to mention it. "We found three more dead near stairwell number 17, sir."

Vermillion nearly laughed aloud, awaiting the reaction of the commander while trying to ignore the stench of the garbage around him.

Finally, he spoke. "Find him. I don't care how you find him, but find him. I'll make sure that bastard pays for what he's done here."

Without another word, besides a 'yes sir' from the other guard, they were off. Fading away, he could faintly hear a parting command.

"And send out four guards on jet skis guards to search the garbage boat."

Vermillion's blood had run cold. He had to take action, now.

Slowly, he unburied himself out of the filth, and grabbed at the pistol, which was buried next to him underneath an empty can. He grabbed it, and rose out of the trash, feeling the boat beginning to move back with its load once again. He sighed, momentarily glad to be not buried in the garbage anymore. He wiped a coating of slime from his tinted goggles, but the film just smeared all over his mask, eliminating visibility. Angrily, he took it off of his head, tossing it into the garbage behind him. Still keeping low, he made his way to the rifle, which he had dropped in the hurry to camouflage into the wastes beneath him. He was disgusted that this was the only way to go, and even more disgusted that so, four guards would be upon him to search the boat.

Luckily for him, the boat had no pilot, only a database system that stored its coordinates. It was an automated pilot, and was already drifting away from the prison, its shape and pillars growing further away with each passing moment. And still, he wasn't out of trouble yet.

Just when he thought he had succeeded…

Vermillion was beginning to get used to the stench, its smell beginning to cease its grip on his senses. His nauseous feeling left him.

Slowly, he made his way to the front right corner of the disposal ship, dirty rifle and pistol in tow. He his behind the corner, knowing full well that he would have to face four guards at once in a shootout.

Sure enough, he could faintly see a lever lowering something down to the surface of the water. It had to be the four jet skis that were sent to search the ship. There was no question.

Vermillion felt a twang of fear in his stomach. This would indeed prove to be a very difficult task for him.

He waited in silence for about a minute, gripping the rifle tightly in his hands in anticipation. Suddenly, he heard a sound. It was like a buzz saw, which grew closer and closer to his position very rapidly. He automatically knew what it was.

The first of the jet skis had arrived.

Vermillion knew that there could be no mercy shown. If he was to survive, he would have to kill them all.

The sound of the second jet ski was made evident, and met by a third and fourth. Vermillion figured that they were about twenty yards away from the edge of the ship. After the engines were cut off, he heard one of them speak, his tone illustrating clearly his feelings of dread.

"Remind me, why on hell are we checking a dirty, rotten… Oh! Agh! What's that smell?"

Vermillion listened in intently, trying his best to hear the short conversation. His companion, who appeared to be the closest to the ship, spoke out in reply, agreeing with the first speaker.

"Ugh! It smells disgusting! I'm not checking that!"

His statement was met with a gruff reply.

"Oh yes you are! I don't care how bad it smells, the chief told us to check it. That's orders, you bunch of numbskulls. Now, check that pile of crap from the front to back!"

One of them groaned, but revved up his engine anyway, making his way to the left side of the boat, the side opposite to Vermillion. He waited for the right moment to strike…

He once again heard the same soldier, the one that had spoken before, complain. He listened, trying to get a bearing on where he was.

"This is gross. I'm only gonna skim it over." His voice was clearly on his left side, nearly right next to the boat. Another voice, one that had not spoke yet, answered him.

"No, you're gonna fully search it, even if I have to drag you onto it and toss you into the garbage myself! He's right. Suck it up and shut up, you useless idiot!"

"Yeah, quit complaining!"

Vermillion smiled happily. He knew where everyone was now. One was in front of him on the left side of the boat, and the other three were behind him on the right, forming a semicircle. He readied himself, tightening his legs and trigger finger on both his pistol and rifle. He aimed his pistol toward the single, alone guard, and the rifle behind him. As quick as a bolt of lightning, he sprang up from his kneeling position on the wall of the boat, and instantly saw the four guards around him.

One of the lesser experienced guards, the one that had complained last, saw him. He yelled out, aiming his rifle at Vermillion.

"There he… unh!"

He fell off of his jet ski, three beams striking him on the side of his head.

Vermillion held down the trigger of his automatic, sweeping it from right to left. He could barely see the guard on the left side of the boat, but fired his pistol anyway in his general direction. It missed completely, only tipping the guard off to what was going on. Vermillion threw himself down to the trash covered ground of the boat once more, hearing two faint splashes of both guards behind him falling into the ocean, dead. Keeping himself hidden behind the pile of filth, he looked at the ammunition meter on the side of his machine gun rifle. He cursed quietly aloud. It read zero.

Meanwhile, the other guard had his rifle aimed and at the ready to fire. He felt a sob escape his throat, completely unnerved by the sight of all three of his companions go down in only a short second. He felt he had no chance of survival.

Vermillion rose up once more, clicking the trigger on his pistol. Unfortunately, the click was the only sound it made. He promptly ducked back down, just as a spray of bullets cut over him. He angrily cursed once again under his breath, and hurled the pistol to the side. His only two weapons were out of ammunition.

All seemed hopeless. Things had seemed so certain for him, for his escape…

Then he remembered. He still had a chance of survival. He smiled.

Slowly reaching into his pocket, he silently removed the item from it, grasping it in his hand like a vise. It was his only chance. He just had to have the guard approach the boat…

The guard was breathing shallowly, his eyes fully showing his fear. He yelled aloud.

"Come out! Where are you? Surrender!"

Vermillion had very hastily made his way to the same side of the boat, still clutching the item in his hand. The guard leaned forward, still aiming the rifle in the direction he had last seen Vermillion, having no knowledge of his movement to right next to him, hiding on the other side of the wall.

He called out once again, his jet ski almost right next to the slowly moving garbage boat.

"Come out! Surrender!"

As soon as the sentence was finished, the guard suddenly felt a sharp pain in his neck. He slumped backward, gurgling. He dropped his rifle, and it clunked against the edge of the ski and fell into the ocean, sinking rapidly. He brought his hands up to his neck, grabbing feebly at an object in his neck.

It was the plate shard.

Vermillion slowly rose up from the edge of the boat. The dying dog soldier fell into the ocean, and floated face up, blood slowly mixing with the sea water, forming a red cloud on the surface. Vermillion nimbly leapt up the edge of the boat wall, and made a flying leap to the jet ski, landing on it skillfully. The guard could only stare through clouding eyes as Vermillion gave his final reply to the guards demand.

"I will never surrender."

With this said, he started the engine, and left the scene, the sound of the jet ski fading away. The guard struggled for only thirty seconds, but gave up. His life drifted away from him like his body drifted away from the boat, bobbing up and down gently on the ocean surface.

Vermillion had escaped the impenetrable walls of the once inescapable prison of Destenoa.

**Authors Note: Please, review! Let me know about what I can improve on!**


	4. An Unexpected Call

**Authors Note: I know, it's been awhile since I've updated this story. **

**This chapter is kind of slow, not action packed like my last two. But don't worry, the calm always comes before the chaos. And let me assure you, this story is headed in a most thrilling direction... Enjoy!**

Team Starfox was on vacation.

The Great Fox, battleship and command center of the elite team of special operatives (so they were called by their Cornerian comrades), drifted through space lazily, just out of the orbital ring of the planet of Katina, far from Corneria, and far from what had just occurred.

Vermillion's escape from Destenoa prison.

Nontheless, ignorance was bliss onboard the Great Fox, especially in the case of Falco Lombardi. Slowly, he kicked his feet up onto the seat in front of him, closing his eyes in relaxation, enjoying his vacation. However, no sooner than when he had completed this action of resting his feet on the top of the seat, that from the other side of the chair, he heard a startled yelp of complaint.

"Ow! Watch it, will ya?"

Falco opened his eyes, also startled. He made a quick action of lifting his feet off of the top of the seat, revealing the upset face of Slippy Toad. The frog pouted slightly.

"Why is it that you always have to put your feet onto my head all the time? Someone else sits here, you know!" he reprimanded him unhappily.

Falco waved his hands next to him, smiling innocently. "Hey, no need to get angry! Just a mistake, is all!"

Slippy rolled his eyes. "Just a mistake, huh? A mistake that you've repeated _only_ fourteen times! And before you say anything else, yes, I've counted!"

"I said I was sorry!"

"Fine, just don't do it again!" Slippy said resolutely. Just at that very moment, one of the doors on their left slid up, and Fox and Krystal walked into the room, both of their faces a picture of puzzlement. Fox turned to them, still seated, with Slippy turned and looking at Falco.

"Hey, is everything okay in here? I heard something going on, a commotion." Fox asked them. Slippy gave no hesitation in his answer, making his complaint known.

"Falco won't stop putting his feet up on my head!" He said rather pitifully. Falco gave an exasperated sigh, his feathery eyebrows raised in annoyance.

"Look, I said for the billionth time, I'm sorry! I won't do it again!"

"You said that the last seven times!"

"I did… wait a minute, why are you counting all of the times I've done something wrong?"

Krystal's face was a picture of merriment as she looked over to Fox. "Even on our vacation, those two just can't stop arguing for some reason. It's like their always at each others throats."

"I know! And over something this stupid!" he shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, guess I better go and break it up."

Fox walked over to Falco and Slippy, who were sill going at it like there was no tomorrow, oblivious to anything else going on around them. Fox shouted over them, bringing their quarrelling to a halt.

"Hey! Can't you two stop arguing for like, two seconds? We're on vacation, for cryin out loud!" He reprimanded them.

Slippy only sulked in response. Falco was silent, looking down at the ground, avoiding Fox's piercing gaze. The silence reigned, only until Krystal began to laugh uproariously.

"Did you, wahhaha, see Slippy's face? Wahhahaaha!" She managed to gasp between laughs.

Fox's gaze began to fall into a jovial stare. Soon, he joined her, and began to start laughing as well, his hands clutching his sides. He bent double in laughter.

"She's right! Your face… It was amazing! Do it again, Slippy!"

Slippy was not amused in the slightest bit. He gave an angry expression to Fox, sulking again. Unfortunately for him, it was the face Fox had asked for.

Krystal was helpless with laughter, falling onto the floor and rolling around. Fox had his hands on his knees, no worse for wear. Slippy shook his head, thinking they were a bunch of buffoons. Then, he heard a noise behind him.

It was Falco, and he was now laughing with them, joining in the merriment.

Only Slippy was still unhappy. He stamped his foot down onto the ground, and gave a high pitched shout.

"Quit it! It's not funny!"

The laughter died down slightly, and all eyes turned to Slippy. He stared at them angrily.

"Why do you guys always laugh at me about everything? You guys always treat me like a joke!"

Falco answered him abruptly. "Aw, come on, man! We were just playing around…"

"Oh, be quiet! You're the one who started all of this!"

"Dude, chill out man! All I did was put my feet on your head…"

"Yeah, fourteen times!"

"Oh, come on, Slippy, give it a rest…"

"Quiet!"

Fox intruded upon their conversation loudly, halting their arguing once more. He inhaled and exhaled into a deep breath, and then proceeded to speak more calmly to the ever arguing pair.

"Now, are you going to continue to behave like a bunch of babies, or are you going to just shut up and stop doing whatever you're doing that makes the other person angry?" He said calmly.

Falco sighed. "Yeah."

Slippy gave a triumphant glance over to Falco, and answered Fox happily. "Yep."

Fox patted them on the shoulders. "Good. I'm glad to hear that." Krystal giggled in the background.

As if on cue, they heard a echoing pop in the room, followed by an announcement on the intercom. Peppy's voice was clearly distinguishable.

"Hey, guys. Sorry to bother you, but I need to see you all in the briefing room. Now, before you say anything about your vacation and all that, just don't argue. Come down here. It's pretty urgent." He turned off the speaker, taking away any possible retort from Team Starfox.

Unwillingly, they left the luxury of the lounge and began walking down to the briefing room, not knowing what was in store for them ahead.

Peppy sat at the controls, drumming his fingers nervously. Team Starfox definitely did not want to see General Pepper with "urgent news".

Sure enough, his fears were confirmed as he heard the door slide open, and Falco walked in, an upset tone of voice and a clear facial expression of disappointment stated on his face, his left eyebrow raised in question.

"Hey, what's up, Peppy? What's the deal? What is _so_ urgent that we need to be interrupted during our vacation?"

Peppy shook his head sorrowfully. He answered Falco quickly, just as the other members of Team Starfox entered the room.

"I'm sorry, guys, but General Pepper needs to see you. He said that it was urgent. Don't ask me what it is about, because I don't know. Apparently, it's important enough to interrupt you during your vacation. Once again, I'm sorry."

Falco sighed. "Is General Pepper online now?"

Peppy pressed a button. A small holographic picture of General Pepper showed up on the screen. Peppy nodded his head at them, his ears bobbing slightly downward as he did.

"Here he is."

Fox held his arms at his side, open palmed, with a questioning look on his features. "What is it, General? Why did you interrupt us during our vacation? We just left!"

The General lowered his head as he spoke. "I apologize for the interruption, but something has happened. Something big."

Krystal, Fox, Slippy, Falco, and Peppy began listening intently, despite their previous feelings of contempt. Pepper's face clearly showed his emotions. He began to speak again after a short pause.

"Are you familiar with the Cornerian prison of Destenoa?"

Fox nodded his head. "Yeah, I'm familiar with it. In fact, I've been there twice in person. We're all familiar with it."

General Pepper gave a single nod of his head, gesturing to Fox in approval. "Good, very good. Then you'll be familiar with its level of security, I presume?"

"Well, yeah. It's extremely secure. Armored walls, over a thousand guards, security cameras on most corners, I mean, it's very secure." He answered. Then, he looked at him inquisitively, asking another question. "Where are you getting at?"

General Pepper decided to cut to the chase. It was already enough to halt their vacation, let alone waste their time with questions.

"Someone- A prisoner, has escaped from Destenoa."

Peppy's eyes grew wide with disbelief, as did Fox's, and the rest of them. Escape from Destenoa? Impossible!

Pepper held up his hand, as in urging them to not interrupt. He continued, "Now, before you say anything, this escape is not only an error of the records. It was indeed verified. Someone has indeed committed the impossible: Escape from the prison of Destenoa. Through what manner exactly, we do not know. But he has escaped And with his escape, there were numerous guard fatalities. Four were labeled missing in action, presumed dead."

Peppy shook his head in disbelief. He looked up at General Pepper in shock.

"Someone has escaped? How? That's not possible…"

"I thought the same my friend, until today when I was told this news. It is a major shock, that is for certain."

Slippy barged into the conversation. "Who escaped? Who killed all of those guards?"

There was a long pause. General Pepper looked down to the ground once again, sullen. He looked back up, facing them again, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

"Vermillion Alakein."

A sharp intake of breath echoed throughout the room, its source being Peppy.

"Impossible. Surely not _him!"_

However, the name did not bring any reaction to the rest of them. Falco was puzzled, and asked Pepper, feeling somewhat stupid about not knowing who he was.

"Who is Vermillion Alakein?"

"Who is Vermillion Alakein? You do not know?" retorted General Pepper back to him. Falco shrugged. Krystal silently shook her head. Slippy and Fox only stared dumbly at the screen, waiting to hear what General Pepper was about to say. Pepper sighed.

"Okay, since you do not know, I will tell you now, in the most basic terms that are convenient for you. Vermillion Alakein is a tall, red furred ferret, said to be stained with his enemies' blood. He was a conspirator, plotting with his corrupt organization, known in our records and on the streets as Sanguine Circle. His plot was allegedly one to overthrow our military and governmental systems from the inside out. Fortunately, he was caught and captured in the act of delivering a message to a fellow conspirator. He was put on trial, and eventually linked to three other murders that had previously been put into our storage file system as unsolved. He was then sentenced to life in prison at Destenoa, and classified as extremely dangerous. That was nearly two years ago to this day."

Another period of silence came after this was said, until Peppy broke it with a simple statement.

"He is considered to be the most dangerous criminal in the entire Lylat System."

Team Starfox then knew why Pepper had put a halt to their vacation. This was beyond urgent. The most dangerous criminal in the entire galaxy was on the loose.

Peppy was once again the first to speak. "Do have a location on where he could be at? Any idea where he could be?"

Pepper shook his head again. "No, we do not. All the worse for wear for us. Who knows _what_ he'll do?" His face turned to look at Fox. "This is why we need you to come down here. Once again, I know this was supposed to be your vacation, but this situation is far too dire. We need you once again, Team Starfox. We need you to investigate this problem." He stated resolutely.

Fox was in conflict with himself. He decided whether or not to continue with their vacation, or to help General Pepper.

He could choose the easy way out, and continue with the vacation. Or, he could serve his duty to his General…

He decided. No matter how much he hated it, he would have to halt their vacation. It wasn't an option to say no.

"We'll be there. We'll come and investigate this problem for you."

His decision was met with a moan from Falco. He ignored him, and waited for the General's reply. He smiled at Fox's decision to serve.

"Thank you, Fox. Come here as soon as possible. Like I've already said, it's crucial that you get here. Thank you so much!"

They heard a click, and then Pepper's face suddenly disappeared, the holographic image disappearing into thin air as it was turned off. The room was completely quiet. Still.

That is, until Falco protested Fox's decision with an angry tone of voice, yelling out, "Fox! What was that, man? We're supposed to be on vacation! _Vacation!_ Not off on yet another mission!"

"Hey! Didn't you hear him?" Krystal butted in. " The most dangerous criminal in the entire Lylat System is virtually on the loose! And you don't seem to even care!"

Falco was about to start protesting back to her, but stopped. She was right. He slowly peered down at the floor, somewhat ashamed of himself.

"You're right. I should be more considerate about that. I'm sorry for being so selfish."

Slippy gave a stare of mock severity at Falco. "You, sorry? Since when?" He laughed.

Falco shut him up by shooting him a hard glare. Slippy slouched, a look of dejection on his face.

"Man, do we ever get a vacation?"

Fox shrugged, diverting his gaze from the vengeful one of Falco. "I dunno, Slippy. It sure seems that way, though. But, like Krystal said, we're needed there. This guy sounds like a major challenge to us. Escape from Destenoa must require some major skill and experience. This won't be just an investigation. In fact, I have a very bad feeling about it…"

"As do I, Fox. As do I." said a worried Peppy. "We need to get there as fast as we can, if we want to prevent anything from happening. That Vermillion… He's a dangerous beast, a deadly killer through and through. This will certainly prove to be a… most interesting mission."

Falco shrugged indifferently. "Hey, at least I won't get bored on this trip."

His statement was met by a sharp laugh from Fox's mouth. "Since when have we ever been bored on a mission?"

With this said, the Great Fox switched courses, heading full speed toward the planet of Corneria, their vacation forgotten and cast aside.

Unknown to them, this event of escape was only the beginning. A secret threat was lurking, brewing, seeking to destroy Corneria in its clutches…

And Team Starfox would be caught right in the crossfire.

**Authors Note: I know, all of these chapters have been really short so far. But don't worry... Soon, the story is going to pick up... ****R&R**


	5. Arrival and Survival

Vermillion had arrived at the mainland, only a day past the date of his escape.

Vermillion's jet ski had run out of gas, just short of the shoreline of the southern regions of Corneria, further south of Corneria City. Still, the shoreline was faintly in sight, and Vermillion would not give up. So, instead, he put upon himself the laborious task of swimming to the shore. Despite his hunger an thirst, he made it to the shoreline, staggering and practically crawling past the tide of the ocean, only to lay onto the sand, exhausted and weary, the sand sticking to his wet, bloodstained fur like tape.

Nonetheless, he continued doggedly onward, marching past the beach, and up to a small meadow, which lay past a small line of rocks. He had almost no idea where to find food, water, and transportation.

He had to find a road. If he did not find one soon, he would perish.

His mouth felt like a hot ball of cotton, as coarse as sandpaper. He felt himself begin to become very dizzy, and as a result, stumbled like a drunkard, only keeping himself balanced by his fantastic ability to keep himself stable in his legs. He brushed aside a fern, exiting the small expanse of field and leaving it behind him, to enter a forested area, many trees rising in front of him and to his sides, towering above him. He felt grass between his paws, slowly wiping the sand off of the pads of his footpaws naturally with each step he took. Barely even looking at the ground beneath him, he felt his feet suddenly grow hot. He jumped up slightly, making an exclamation of surprise. He peered down to the ground, wondering through his tired mind what the cause was of the heat. He nearly laughed aloud at his discovery.

He was standing atop asphalt.

He looked up, and then turned his head from left to right. The road stretched onward, clearly in the direction of Corneria City, and in the other direction, to his left, he did not know what lay ahead. He wisely decided to walk alongside the road at a distance, rather than right next to it. He looked ahead, seeing the very top of the skyscrapers and towers of the city, so far away from where he was. He moaned. How was he going to get there without first dying of thirst?

As soon as he completed this thought, a large stack of fallen tree branches from a small patch of wood caught his eye. He stared at them tiredly, almost absentmindedly. The, he looked at the road, then back to the branches. Slowly, a smile began to form on his rough features. These branches would easily span the road's width.

In the deepest recesses of his brain, a plan began to hatch in his mind. He would certainly not perish! He would survive!

A lone truck driver sat at the wheel of his vehicle, eating and drinking a meal he had gotten off of takeout restaurant. He was eating his sandwich with gusto, not paying the road ahead of him much attention. After taking a sip from his water bottle, he looked back up, and screamed.

A huge pile of tree branches was standing directly in his way. He slammed on the brakes, and the brakes made a high pitched squeal as his vehicle slid forward. His body was thrown forward as his truck came to a screeching halt, only centimeters away from the gigantic pile of branches. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, thumping like a set of bongo drums. His breathing was shallow, trying to get over the surprise of what lay in front of him.

What the hell was a stack of tree branches doing in the middle of a highway?

He took stock of the situation, and decided to abandon his sandwich in his seat. He opened the door, making a quick step down to the road, intent on moving the branches out of his way.

He did not make three paces before he felt a pair of cold, crimson hands wrap around his neck.

Vermillion dropped the driver's lifeless form onto the road, and, as quickly as possible, chucked it onto the other side of the road. He then proceeded to move the branches off of the road, covering the once alive trucker with them, practically burying him above the ground, hidden from the casual observer's eye.

The crimson ferret hastily made his way to the driver's seat of the truck, and, upon seeing the half eaten sandwich and water bottle, he nearly laughed with glee. He was most certainly going to make it to the boating dock to Corneria city.

He drank and ate the stolen food ravenously, filling his body with strength and energy. Within two minutes, he had finished the food, and was driving the truck down the road, heading for Corneria. His plan would not be stopped by mere physical ailments. Oh no, he had only just begun. The death that presented itself now was only the beginning of the hardship this miserable planet would experience by the time his plan had gone ito effect. He spoke to himself in anticipation.

"I am coming, Sanguine, my brothers. I am coming."

Fox tapped his legs with his paws impatiently to a rhythm he had made up in his head. The ship was zooming past at incredible speeds, though still not quite at Corneria. Krystal called out to Peppy, who was sitting at the controls of the ship.

"Hey, Peppy? How much longer until we reach the planet? We've been sitting here for a day!"

"Not much longer, Krystal." He answered her, peering over his shoulder. "We should be there in only about ten minutes time. You guys will enter the planet's atmosphere with your Arwings. I'll stay in contact with you here at the Great Fox. Got it?

They nodded their heads. He gave a returning nod.

"Okey dokey then. Proceed to the hanger. I'll launch you from the ship once you have all of your systems operational."

Fox nodded his heads one more time. "Got it!"

Peppy smiled. "Good. Then I'll see you on Corneria. Good luck.

Without another word, they proceeded to the hanger, to the four Arwings nestled in the center of the ship.

They were back in business again.

Fox, Falco, Krystal, and Slippy made their way to their Arwings with haste, running down the long, empty hallway of the ship down to the hanger where they were kept.

They emerged into the large, expansive hanger, and the sight that greeted their eyes was the four Arwings, wings closed and shut off. They waited only a few seconds before they heard Peppy's voice on the intercom.

"Lowering Arwings down now."

They watched at all four levers hissed, and the platforms began to lower the Arwings down to ground level. As soon as all of the Arwings were level with the floor, all four of them hopped into the cockpits. Peppy's voice blared onto the intercom once more.

"Are you all ready to go?"

Flipping various switches and buttons, one by one, they called back to him.

"Ready for launch!"

"Good. I'm opening the hatch now. Prepare for launch."

At that instant, the door began to open, and they felt their Arwings begin to rise in the air. Bracing themselves for the launch, they waited until the moving would stop.

Sure enough, Fox felt a small jerk as the Arwings ceased to rise. All of them gripped the seats hard, tensing up all of their muscles, knowing that they were about to be slung out into space…

Peppy's voice came on the intercom one last time. "Launching now. Get ready, guys!"

Right after he said this, they felt themselves shift forward in their seats. They flew out of the Great Fox, propelled forward by the sliding rail. Fox felt himself beginning to fall back into the seat. He shouted to the rest of his team through the ship's microphone.

"Stabilize the Arwings! Spread the wings, spread the wings!"

He reached for a button, and pressed it. Immediately after he did this, he felt his body jerk forward as the Arwing slowed down, and spun rapidly to the right. This action threw out the wings, opening them from their closed position. All four of them reiterated this action after one another, and their ships slowed down to normal speed. Fox relaxed as he leaned forward slightly, operating the controls of the ship.

"Hey Peppy, what are the coordinates to Destenoa? Didn't Pepper say he wanted us to get there?" Fox heard Slippy say over intercom system.

Peppy replied. "No, in fact, Pepper wants you to land in Corneria City. He'll escort you by boat to the prison. Unauthorized aircraft are not allowed to get within the proximity of the prison, due to the possibility of crashing into the building. Sorry."

Fox nearly laughed. "Man, are they really _that_ paranoid?"

Peppy was clearly heard chuckling. "Yes, they are. Even the most skilled team of elite operatives in the entire Lylat System are not permitted to enter within the proximity of the prison. Or at least, that's what they just told me."

Falco snorted. "Well, that's stupid. I mean, come on now, how many times have we saved their butts? Like, six?"

Fox laughed. "I don't know. I've already lost count."

They were getting very close to the edge of the atmosphere. Peppy said to them once more, "Hey, once you penetrate the atmosphere, head off to your right. I'm sure you'll see the city from there."

"Got it!" They all replied back to him.

"Good…" he said, "Because you're about to begin penetrating the atmosphere in four, three, two, one…"

Immediately, they felt their Arwings begin to shake, experiencing turbulence from the atmosphere's resistance. Fox yelled out a command to the rest of his team without hesitation.

"Get ready to bank left as soon as we penetrate the atmosphere, or else we'll blow right past the city."

"Roger on that, Fox."

The shaking became more intense, and they began to bump their heads on the side of the cockpit. Fox kept his eyes centered in front of him.

"Almost through the atmosphere, guys. Almost through."

They penetrated the outer layer of the atmosphere, their ships four individual comets of fire in the darkening sky.

Vermillion was still driving the stolen truck, and the city was looming larger in front of him. He could not help but smile. This city, this entire damned planet would pay for making him suffer. For making him wait to accomplish his goal, for delaying the circle of life in which his entire life was devoted to.

The Sanguine Circle.

Suddenly, he felt a small shake in the truck, followed by a gentle boom. It echoed all around him. Then, he could see, out of the corner of his eye, four streams of light in the sky, lined up beside each other in perfect formation. Puzzled, he peered up through the top of his windshield, and saw the small lines of light rapidly move across the sky. He continued to peer in their direction, until he saw the direction in which they were heading.

Corneria City.

Immediately, he knew what this newfound enemy was. The sight of four ships in a flawless line was a symbol of only one thing.

Team Starfox was on the move.

Quietly, he cursed underneath his breath. This would complicate things for him immensely. He made a realization based upon this newfound information. A resolution.

There was only one thing he could do now. He must rebuild his organization. He could not carry out his plans alone, especially not now with the presence of Team Starfox.

He must rebuild his legacy. He must rebuild Sanguine Circle.

**Authors Note: Yeah, I know it's short… again. And it also doesn't seem to be getting very action packed, either. But don't lose interest, because the calm always comes before the storm. And the storm is indeed coming. Just not in the next chapter :D**


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